sistant was heading for the east shore of the river and was soon out of sight around a point of rocks. The other boat had turned around, so the boys did not have a chance to speak to their fellow-students.
"Here comes a motor boat!" cried Dave, as a steady put-put! reached his ears.
"It's Nat Poole's boat," said Phil as the craft came into view.
Soon the motor boat came close to them and they saw that Poole and Merwell were on board. The pair were smoking, as usual, but placed their cigarettes on the seats, out of sight.
"Where are you going?" demanded Nat Poole, abruptly.
"Rowing," answered Phil, dryly.
"Humph! Don't you wish you had this motor boat?"
"Not particularly."
"A motor boat beats a rowboat all hollow," went on the dudish student.
"Not for rowing," vouchsafed Dave.
"Well, you can row if you want to," sneered Poole. "I prefer to let the motor do the work," and then he steered away, giving the rowboat all the wash possible as he passed.
"Wonder where they are going?" said Link Merwell, as he looked back to see if the rowboat had shipped any water from the wash.
